


Dragon Corps

by vaderina



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Blood, Dragon!Newt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Violence, dragon fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 02:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaderina/pseuds/vaderina
Summary: Newt was a part of the Dragon Corps during the war. But how could someone who hadn't officially finished their education, wasn't trained in offensive spells help the war effort? The outcasts of society, criminals, undesirables weren't the ones to wield the bludgeon in the war. They were the bludgeons.





	Dragon Corps

Things regarding Grindelwald were never straightforward. It was the final stand, MACUSA and MoM against him in the sloping hills of Yeovil. Why Grindelwald had set up his base of operations there of all places was beyond anyone. Perhaps that was the very reason why. Nobody expected to find him holed up in such a picturesque setting.

There weren’t many people on his side. The group looked weatherworn, tired and altogether a lot more like a collection of stragglers than an organised unit. In comparison to the group of aurors they were almost laughable. It didn’t seem to matter to Grindelwald who leered from his position at the centre front of his side. His wand was loose in his hand, utterly relaxed despite the tense stand-off.

“You know you won’t win,” he hollered over the space that separated the two groups.

“Give it up now Grindelwald, we outnumber you,” Seraphina shouted back. The headshake she got in reply was condescending and pitying. The “have it your way” could be read off Grindelwald’s lips rather than heard as he turned to his group, wand pointed at them. The aurors froze, uncertain why Grindelwald would turn on his own men.

“Oh no,” Newt’s voice was low and he backed away from the aurors. A few cast him pitying glances, the man wasn’t equipped for such a fight and it was no wonder he was running away. Next to him Percival and Theseus cast him a look but their attention was drawn back to Grindelwald. Spell cast they watched in horror as a three of the men and women in front of him morphed in a silent scream. The snapping of bones and wheeze of transfiguration surrounded them. Three fully grown dragons growled at them. In front Grindelwald turned and his self-assured smile slipped.

From behind the group there was a low growl and a fireball hurtled through the air. It caught one of the dragons in the chest and it toppled with an agonised scream. Its own fire burned in its throat but failed to come out with each winded gasp.

“Newt no!” Theseus cried and some of the aurors turned with him. At the back of their group stood a dragon, nostrils still smoking from the well-aimed fireball. The aurors backed away as the dragon roared and the two still standing took to the sky. It was a massacre from there on. Aurors against Grindelwald’s followers while the dragons took to the sky in battle. Fireballs rained down in sizzling thuds. Theseus found himself back to back with Percival. They fought with magic and fists as much as they could but the few followers Grindelwald had were wily, they fought in clumps, ganged up on lone aurors who lost their way. A group descended towards Theseus and Percival with manic glee. Five against one were not great odds even with their skill and the two of them went on the defensive.

A shadow fell over them before a giant scale clad body thumped down between the groups. It let out a shriek, a wall of fire erupted against Grindelwald’s men. The dragon’s wings took the brunt of the spells, shielding the others and giving them a moment of reprieve. Further down the hill was the limp body of another dragon, wings in shreds, belly ripped open on ruthless talons.

“Thanks little brother,” Theseus nodded at the dragon who seemed to nod back and took to the skies again from where the final dragon was laying waste to all it saw. It didn’t care whether it was Grindelwald or auror, she killed indiscriminately. It turned the tide in the aurors’ favour and Newt took off again with a low growl.

Stragglers of Grindelwald’s group were rounded up, the man himself nowhere to be seen. However, the two dragons in the sky were still at each other’s throats. There was no question about it, it was a fight to death. Blow after blow the air rang with the thuds of bodies crashing, the dragon tried to spit fire on the people on the ground but Newt dive bombed her.

“How?” Percival asked, a protective shield above their heads for good measure.

“Dragon Crops,” Theseus sighed. It was a family secret, one that wasn’t his story to tell and Newt never spoke of his time in the war. Percival’s eyes narrowed in puzzlement. He was an intelligent man, he knew enough about Newt’s history and about warfare to figure things out. Above them Newt roared and spun away from the other dragon. A large tear in his wing caused him to drop from the sky and the aurors instinctively dove. He never hit the ground, with as seething growl he pushed through the pain and lopsidedly pushed back towards the other dragon.

Their chests collided, teeth snapped at each other while claws tore at vulnerable bellies and wings. It rained blood on the ground and it sizzled as it burnt the grass. There was no telling who was winning. If anything, Theseus was worried that the only thing that would come out of the fight would be two losers. A dragon shrieked. Smoke filled the air and obscured their vision. Through the cloud a large body fell and crumpled to a heap, its tail caught around the other dragon’s leg and it dragged it down too. Nobody dared move. The two beasts lay unmoving on the ground. The silence was broken by Theseus’ broken cry of “Newt” and he rushed over to the creatures. Percival was hot on his heels, trusting his aurors to keep their prisoners under control.

Together they hefted the tail of the dragon off Newt’s leg and tried to encourage Newt to give any sign of life. A light trail of smoke trickled for a nostril followed by a pained groan. One wing was twisted broken and bent under him, the other lay in tatters. A deep gash ran across his scaled belly, the powerful back legs of the other dragon had torn him almost clean open.

“We’ll get you a healer Newt, hold on. Just hold on,” Theseus begged him.

“Can you turn back?” Percival asked, eyes on the multitude of wounds, assessing which he could patch up with magic and which would need pressure until someone more qualified turned up. Newt’s eyes slipped shut and Theseus bodily pushed him into awareness again.

“I can help turn him back but you’ve got to help keep him conscious until a healer arrives,” Theseus said. It was something Percival readily agreed to. The spell sounded simple enough and almost familiar, a quiet “revelio” and Percival watched mildly horrified as Newt’s features melted back into existence.

He was pale and trembling, lips almost white, his freckles washed out and bags under his eyes. Pain aged and erased someone so quickly. Percival steeled next to him with a grim smile, Theseus on his other side.

“So, Dragon Corps?” he asked and Newt nodded shakily, his throat blistered from the last vestiges of the fire in his chest. “I didn’t realise it was quite such a literal thing.”

“The army didn’t have much use for people who didn’t finish their education or for criminals in the war. But numbers were low, desperation high,” Theseus filled in. Newt’s eyes began to lose focus and Percival laid a hand on his cheek, the only thing that was probably only bruised rather than torn or shattered. He urged healing magic through his palm, hoping it would at least numb whatever agony Newt could feel through the shock.

“So through conscription they made their own squadron. Real dragons couldn’t be tamed but transformed men otherwise useless to the war effort were okay?”

Under him Newt hummed in agreement which ended with his eyes squeezed shut tight, chest shuddering against the pain. Percival tried to heal him but battlefield first aid wasn’t enough. He desperately wanted to see a medic any moment then. Opposite him Theseus let out a bitter laugh.

“Criminals turned into dragons. Whoever thought that up was an idiot. Those turned on their handlers as quickly as possible. Powerful in their new forms they thought they could escape. Newt was the tamest dragon they had and even he wouldn’t let himself be saddled by a rider.”

Percival snorted and thought about Newt, young a hopeful despite everything that had been thrown at him. Rumours of the Dragon Corps had filtered through the ranks, men trying to tame dragons, some being sent to fight, reconnaissance flights as well as attacks behind enemy lines. Not once did Percival even dream to think that they were people transformed into tools to help the war rather than beasts. Some of the stories of the atrocities left behind by the dragons didn’t bear thinking about.

Finally cracks of apparition signalled the arrival of healers. Hands pushed Percival’s away, diagnostic spells and stasis charms were cast over Newt. Theseus stood and moved out of the way, Newt reached for him. His other hand, crushed and bloodied as it was reached for Percival. As the healers gathered to transport Newt back to hospital Percival leaned down and pressed a kiss to Newt’s sweaty forehead.

“We’ll be right behind you and there where you wake,” he promised and tucked Newt’s hand to his chest.  Newt tried to nod, eyes glazed as a numbing charm got to work. In a crack of apparition he twisted out of existence. Theseus and Percival shared a look before they too followed.

**Author's Note:**

> Still there on tumblr - @ladyoftheshrimp


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